


Day Drunk Into the Night

by MachaSWicket



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, aka the hotel de espana's in spain?, reimagining veronica and logan coming back together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: <i>There was a blonde walking toward him, arm-in-arm with a brunette woman, their faces turned toward each other as they talked and laughed in the cool evening air. These women were, if he had to guess, a little tipsy, oblivious to the pedestrians around them. So Logan stared, cataloged, compared the blonde to his memories of Veronica. He was helpless, unable to look away, because the one time he </i>didn’t<i> make absolutely certain he was wrong, it would be her.</i>  AKA, the hotel de espana's in spain-fic.</p><p>SUPER LATE HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO KATE! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Drunk Into the Night

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS: To katelinnea, to fanmommer, and to my lovely VM pals who are still cheering me on to write things for these two characters that I love. Sorry it took so long.
> 
> HUGE thanks to [lilamadison11](http://lilamadison11.tumblr.com/) for the beautiful art!

 

 

 

After three months of absolutely no liquor on the carrier, Logan and his squadron mates, Gonzo, Reza, and Fred, were laughing pretty hard by the time they finished eating and spilled out onto the streets. They'd shared two bottles of expensive red wine with dinner, joking and laughing and enjoying the brine-free air of Seville as day slid into night.

The carrier battle group was docked at Rota, and they were on liberty for three days. Logan had booked a room at the Hotel de Espana, determined to soak up as much _room to himself_ as possible for the next two nights. The guys were staying at a more affordable option, and they were giving him no end of shit about his fancy, rich boy ways. Even _after_  he bought dinner.

Good thing he liked these assholes.

They weren’t far from Plaza de Espana when a tiny blonde caught his eye, walking toward them on the same side of the street.

It still happened sometimes -- a petite woman with a similar build, or a mannerism that reminded him of Veronica, or -- God help him -- a messenger bag slung carelessly over a woman’s shoulder. Three years off and on with her, and she’d left him with a broken heart and a fucking messenger bag fetish.

Who the fuck had a _messenger bag_ fetish? It didn’t even make sense, but god forbid some petite woman strode past him with a messenger bag banging against her leg. His response was Pavlovian. Still. Seven years later.

But it was _seven years later,_  so he carried on, and dated women, and fucked women, and even loved a couple women in the interim. But no matter where he was in his life, no matter how happy or content or drunk or angry -- whenever he saw a woman that had _some_  quality that reminded him of her, and he would stop whatever he was doing, just in case.

It was _never_ her.

And every time, he was disappointed. Because the years since he’d seen her had taught him a lot of things about a lot of things, including that he was a total fucking sap. At least when it came to Veronica Mars.

He wished he could push past it, could just tear his gaze away and move on, knowing it would never be Veronica. Hell, even if it _were_  Veronica, what would he even say?

But there was a blonde walking toward him, arm-in-arm with a brunette woman, their faces turned toward each other as they talked and laughed in the cool evening air. These women were, if he had to guess, a little tipsy, oblivious to the pedestrians around them. So Logan stared, catalogued, compared the blonde to his memories of Veronica. He was helpless, unable to look away, because the one time he _didn’t_  make absolutely certain he was wrong, it would be her.

Except that it would never be her.

Logan slowed as they grew closer, falling behind Gonzo and the others, his gaze fixed on this blonde that all the Spanish wine he’d drunk was telling him _was_  Veronica. The stubborn set of her chin, the way she flicked her free hand in the air as she spoke, the slight sway in her step. His brain was _certain_  he was wrong, but he couldn’t stop the superstitious, watched-pot-never-boils compulsion to make absolutely sure.

Logan lurched to a stop, one hand on the stucco wall beside him to steady himself. Because -- that laugh. He recognized her voice, her laughter, and  _Veronica Fucking Mars_  was fifteen feet away from him on a random sidewalk in Seville.

& & &

Veronica didn’t _regret_  law school. That wasn’t the right sentiment at all. It was just a _hell_  of a lot of work.

And so even though it was incredibly irresponsible to use a chunk of her student loans to fly to Europe, after two years of non-stop studying, she said fuck it. Literally, she said “Fuck it!” aloud to the walls of her tiny bedroom in the tiny apartment she shared with Elisa, and bought the ticket.

She was tired of being good. Tired of being responsible. Tired of that nose-to-the-grindstone ethos. She didn’t want to count pennies or read ahead for fall semester classes. She just wanted to take a fun trip somewhere with fun people to have, you know, _fun_.

She missed fun. In fact, Veronica fondly remembered fun that didn’t involve overtired laughing fits in the law library.

So she and Elisa bought a Living Social deal to Spain (Spain!? Sure!). They packed bright sundresses and short shorts and bathing suits and headed to Seville ready to enjoy the hell out of Spanish men, Spanish wine, Spanish beaches.

Three days in, and Veronica was very, very glad they’d come. She was a little bit tan, and a little bit tipsy from the sangria. Elisa wanted to go to Plaza de Espana, so they’d left the tiny tapas place with the handsome, flirtatious server, and were making their way on foot. A little slowly. Perhaps a little unsteadily.

But everything was sun-dappled and warm and _fun_ during the day, and wine-soaked and romantic and still _fun_  at night, and Veronica just could not stop laughing.

Until she heard her name.

"Veronica?”

It took a moment to register -- her name, here. But the voice. The familiar way he said her name like it was some sort of blessing. She _had_  to be hallucinating. She must be drunker than she thought. Though, hell, if she was going to have a drunken hallucination about a guy, she would definitely choose Logan.

Veronica stopped short, her gaze shifting to the man standing ten feet away from her. Elisa, still laughing, took another step until their joined arms halted her movement.

“Veronica,” Elisa asked, still giggling a little, “what--?”

“ _Veronica_?” Logan repeated. He looked -- _gorgeous_  -- the same, but different. His hair shorter, his face lean and angular now. His body seemed hard and toned just by the way his white button-down shirt draped across his chest and shoulders.

She caught her breath, half-convinced she was seeing things. How was it possible that she would just... _bump into_  Logan halfway around the world?

But here he was. Logan Echolls. Staring at her with wide, shocked brown eyes.

Veronica stared back. “Logan?”

& & &

Logan took a step towards Veronica. She wore a simple, light blue sundress, one white bra strap peeking out along her shoulder. Her blonde hair reached past her shoulders, falling around her face in windblown waves. Her cheeks were flushed with surprise, or possibly liquor, her blue eyes wide and shocked as she gaped at him.

She looked amazing.

He opened his mouth. “I...” But he had nothing coherent to say, so he simply shrugged.

And then Veronica was grinning at him, positively radiating joy in that way she used to before everything went to hell. He took three steps and grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her up like they were still teenagers in love. Veronica was laughing against him, her arms looped tightly around his neck, and he thought she said, “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“What the hell, Logan?” Gonzo asked. “Did you at least introduce yourself first?”

“Apparently they know each other,” Veronica’s friend answered, watching them with a semi-stunned, semi-drunk smile.

Logan ignored Gonzo and Reza and Fred, ignored Veronica’s friend, and just... _held_ her, taking small steps to stay balanced, turning them in an incidental half-circle. “I think we’re amusing our friends,” he murmured, pressing his face into the softness of her hair. He let himself inhale, practically nuzzling her, public street and bemused audience be damned.

“I don’t think I care,” Veronica answered, and he could feel her breath against his neck. Her fingers dug into the back of his shoulder, trying to pull him even closer. His arms were shaking a little, and he couldn’t have cared less. He leaned back to transfer some of her weight from his arms to his chest, and then she was pressed perfectly, indecently close. He could feel her legs shifting as if she wanted to wrap them around his waist, but she didn’t.

“Good. To hell with all of them,” he said, and now he _was_  nuzzling her neck, pressing his nose lightly against her soft skin, his lips, too, though he wasn’t kissing her in the limited technical sense. Still, she shivered against him in reaction, and he was going to _have_  to put her down or he was going to have a very visible problem.

“Logan?” she whispered, her breath skimming across the sensitive skin below his ear.

“Yeah?” he managed.

“Let’s go somewhere and,” she paused, just enough for the implication to land, “catch up.”

Hidden by her hair, Logan gave in and kissed her neck -- two soft, slightly desperate kisses -- barely resisting the urge to taste her skin before he eased her to her feet. She released him slowly, taking only a quarter step back and letting her hands trail down his arms so she could tangle her fingers with his.

They grinned stupidly at each other.

“Oh, good,” Veronica’s friend said, her voice low and amused, “so you’re _not_  actually going to bang some guy against the side of a building while we all avert our eyes.”

Veronica flushed, but didn’t break eye contact with Logan when she said, “Not just yet, anyway.” Logan choked a little, and she started to laugh, finally glancing over at her friend. “Elisa, this is Logan. We used to date.”

“No kidding,” Gonzo commented dryly.

Logan grinned down at her, starting to catalogue the differences from the girl he’d loved. “Veronica, my mates Gonzo, Reza, and Fred. Guys,” he added, sparing them the briefest of glances, but it was long enough to catch the unbridled amusement and realize he was in for a _world_  of teasing once they were back on the ship, “ _this_  is Veronica Mars. She used to get me off.” He smirked down at her and she rolled her eyes as he added, “Every time I was wrongfully accused of criminal acts.”

He could tell she was biting back a loaded response, something about a hundred other times when he _wasn’t_  facing jail time, no doubt. He chuckled when she glanced away from him to say hi to the guys. “Nice to meet you.” She turned back to Logan. “Are you pretending to be British, or are you rereading _Harry Potter_  for the thousandth time?”

Reza took a step closer, “I’m sorry -- did you say _Harry Potter_?”

Veronica turned to Reza with a wicked grin. “Ask him about his sorting hat.” At which point Gonzo, Reza, and Fred started to get loud in their amusement. Logan dropped her hand just long enough to give Reza a quick shove, then reached for her again.

He squeezed her fingers. “Enough of that,” he told her, with absolutely no malice and a goofy smile to boot. He’d take the _inevitable_  attempts to change his call sign to Hufflepuff if Veronica would just stand here and smirk at him.

She tilted her head towards the guys. “Your _mates_?”

He chuckled despite himself. Goddamn, she was too much sometimes. “We fly together.”

Her eyebrows lifted, but it was Elisa who asked, “You fly planes? Like, big old jet airliners?”

Gonzo snorted. “God, no, we don’t fly those buses. We’re fighter pilots in the Navy.”

Elisa asked a follow up, but Logan tuned that conversation out entirely. He already knew all the girls-in-bars questions, and he was not at all interested in that when Veronica Fucking Mars was holding his hands and watching him.

Logan studied her reaction closely, but she just swayed a bit closer. No shock, no narrowed eyes -- she’d clearly already known about his career. The realization warmed him. He tilted his head. “You’ve been checking in, huh?”

She gave him that evaluating look, the one that used to make his stomach drop either from lust or fear, depending on the situation. “Maybe a little,” she admitted, and Logan knew his surprise was clear on his face. Honesty -- this was different, but he wasn’t sure if it was due to a new, open-with-her-feelings Veronica, or too much sangria.

Logan had always been the open-with-his-feelings type, at least with her, so he asked, “And how is law school?” without even bothering to blame the wine. Hell, yes, he’d kept tabs. And he was pretty sure he’d had a much harder time of it than Ms. Private Eye, since her dad wasn’t much of a fan, and Wallace had told him precisely where to go after the unfortunate Piz incident.

But Logan had made the effort, and somehow standing here in front of her, it didn’t feel embarrassing. It felt like something he _wanted_  her to know.

_I still care_.

Her smile softened and he knew she understood. “I kinda like law school,” she answered. She leaned into him again and wrapped her arms around his ribs, her cheek pressed against his chest, and Logan hugged her back.

“Oh, Jesus,” Fred said in his familiar drawl, “I thought we ruled out public sex acts.”

& & &

Veronica paid very little attention to the conversation among Elisa and Logan’s fellow pilots about where they were headed. A bar, she was sure. Or a tapas place for more sustenance to go along with the wine. To be fair, she didn’t much _care_  where they were going, as long as Logan was coming with her.

The shock of his presence was starting to fade, replaced with a buoyant giddiness that Veronica couldn’t quite name. _Fun_  wasn’t enough. _Happy_  was far too small of a concept for whatever this was.

They were walking behind the others, hand-in-hand and so close together they were bumping elbows and shoulders. With every touch, her body thrummed with awareness, with anticipation. She hadn’t been joking earlier -- she had every intention of having all kinds of satisfying sex with Logan, as soon as possible.

Just the thought made her shiver.

But since she’d come to Spain with Elisa, and Logan had his mates with him, she was trying to control herself for a respectable amount of time before dragging him to bed. At least an hour. An hour and a half at the most.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Logan said, his voice quiet and intense.

She glanced up, and he was doing that _staring_ thing, the kind of look where she was certain he could see all the way down to her bones. It used to unnerve her, but right now, on a random street in Spain, with the back of her hand brushing against his jeans, she luxuriated in it. “I can’t believe _you’re_  here.”

“This is pretty unlikely.” He lifted his eyebrows and smirked. “You think _maybe_  the universe is trying to tell us something?”

She flushed, and suddenly she had no patience. Not an ounce. Abruptly, she stopped walking and turned, pushing him back against the stucco wall of an apartment building. He went willingly, a mix of surprise and lust on his face.

“Absolutely,” she said, twining her arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him.

It escalated quickly.

Logan kissed her like he meant it, like not a day had passed since he made her orgasms his prime focus in life. His hands were roaming along her spine, grasping handfuls of her dress, then smoothing down to the curve of her back, every movement bringing her closer to him. She wanted very badly to drag him into the nearest semi-private alleyway, just to take the edge off, before spending the rest of the night reacquainting herself with his body. And his mouth. And, God, his hands. His _talented_  hands.

“Hey, hey, you’ve got all night for that.”

Veronica grumbled something against Logan’s mouth and pulled back, glaring over at Reza.

Reza’s eyes widened and he took one step back, hands up defensively. “Or, you know, whatever.”

Logan laughed at his friend’s reaction, leaning his head back against the wall and folding his hands together behind her back. “You’re scaring badass fighter pilots,” he told her. “It’s nice to see some things haven’t changed.”

She leaned closer, keeping her head turned away from their friends, and nipped the base of his throat. Logan groaned in response, his arms tightening around her. She smirked up at him. “Agreed.”

He tilted his head down, resting his forehead against hers. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Jesus, let’s _go_ ,” Gonzo said. “You guys can just as easily make out at the tapas place.”

“And carb up,” Freddy drawled.

Veronica felt Logan’s concerned gaze, like he thought maybe she’d be offended. Instead, she stepped away from Logan and pointed at Freddy. “Excellent point.” She reached for Logan’s hand and pulled him towards the others, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “Let’s get you fueled up, big boy.”

She was pretty sure only his natural athleticism kept him from stumbling when he processed her remark. He dropped her hand and slung his arm around her shoulders instead, tugging her right up against his side. She reached up and tangled her fingers with his, loving every damn second of their awkward progress. She didn’t care that she took one-and-a-half steps for every one of his, or that her shoulder kept bouncing off of his rib cage. She was going to stick to him like a fucking burr for as long as--

“Wait,” she slowed, looking up at him with sudden dread. “When do you need to be back to your,” she shrugged, waving her free hand in the general direction of the Mediterranean, “plane.”

Logan laughed and squeezed her shoulders. “It’s an aircraft carrier that I’m returning to, but not until the day after tomorrow.”

She shivered, trying to conjure up an image of a fighter pilot or an aircraft carrier that wasn’t polluted by Tom Cruise’s stupid face. “Good,” she said. “You’re with me until you report back. Got it, mister?”

“It’s Lieutenant, actually,” he corrected.

Her breathing stuttered just a bit -- _Lieutenant_  Echolls? Jesus -- and she knew he hadn’t missed a thing when he smirked and leaned down to kiss her. She figured it was supposed to be a light, quick affair, but she reached up to anchor him close, half-turned to him, and they stumbled to a stop.

“Oh, my God,” she heard Elisa say, “someone get me a bucket of cold water.”

Veronica laughed and stepped away from him and his crazy talented mouth. Logan stared down at her, looking a little dazed for a moment, before that smug grin returned. “Think you can survive an hour without tearing my clothes off, Bobcat?”

“Sure,” she answered breezily, taking a couple steps away from him before turning back. “You better make it worth my while.” She turned on her heel and grinned when he made a choking sound behind her, just seconds before his hands landed on her waist.

& & &

Veronica slid into the curved booth and tugged Logan in beside her. As soon as he settled, she moved closer, sitting so that their thighs and shoulders touched. Logan slung his arm around her shoulders, smiling when she leaned into his side.  Elisa slid in from the other side, ending up next to Veronica with Fred beside her, while Reza and Gonzo grumbled about being stuck with the two chairs.

They chatted amicably until a waiter appeared. Elisa and Gonzo both spoke Spanish, and ordered for the group, interrupting and speaking over each other in a way that would have amused Logan if he’d had the bandwidth to pay attention to anything other than Veronica Mars.

It was disconcerting to be sitting in a restaurant in Spain with parts of his old life and parts of his new life. He didn’t like to dwell on much related to Neptune, now that he was out, but Veronica had been the exception to most of the rules he’d ever imposed on himself. Gonzo, Reza, and Fred were like his brothers, and he’d never expected this situation, but now that they were all in one place, he _really_  wanted Veronica and the guys to like each other.

The waiter reappeared, depositing two bottles of wine and six glasses. Gonzo thanked him, then turned to Logan. “You’re paying, pretty boy.”

Logan batted his eyelashes. “I am pretty.”

Veronica snorted beside him, her hand coming to rest on his thigh.

“So you’re from California, too,” Elisa said, evaluating him. “You guys went to school together?”

Veronica nodded, but Logan could feel the slight tension in her frame. “Yup,” she answered. “He’s a pretty _surfer_  boy.”

“Aww,” Logan teased, leaning his face down so his breath made her hair flutter a little bit, “do you really think I’m pretty?”

Her fingers tightened very slightly on his leg. “I think you’re impossible,” she answered, her tone all sweetness.

“I like this girl,” Fred decided, grinning at Veronica.

Veronica and Fred clinked their wine glasses in a toast to Logan’s impossibility.

“So,” Elisa said, then paused for a long sip of wine. “You’re Logan. Like, _the_  Logan.”

Logan perked up, because _that_  was quite a promising start to a conversation. “The one and only,” he agreed, smoothing his fingers along Veronica’s arm.

“Hardly,” Veronica snarked, but even with her face turned mostly away to glare at Elisa, Logan could see the flush of color along her cheeks. He told himself not to be smug, but -- yeah, he felt pretty damn smug. She’d told Elisa about him? Enough about him that Elisa’s impression was that he was _the_  Logan? He sat up a little straighter, and Veronica promptly elbowed him, even though her focus remained on Elisa. “Shut it, Elisa.”

“ _Don’t_  shut it, Elisa,” Fred countered with a faint grin. “ _The_  Logan? This clown?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Elisa lied, glancing from Veronica to Logan. “You know how girls can get to talking.”

“Elisa.”

Elisa beamed at Veronica, then turned to include the guys in the conversation. “I mean, she didn’t name names on _purpose_ , but--”

“I hate you,” Veronica interrupted, her tone deceptively pleasant. She pointed at the guys in turn, then poked Logan in the chest. “Don’t listen to her. She’s a crazy person.”

“Fuck that,” Logan protested, laughing. “I’m all ears, Elisa. To what was my name _accidentally_  attached? Best boyfriend? Most handsome?” He let a little bit of innuendo filter into his voice. “Most thoughtful gift giver?”

“Oh, my God.” Veronica leaned her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands.

Elisa looked positively wicked when she said, “I suppose you could call it gift-giving.”

The guys actually cheered a little, and Logan tried very hard to rein in his reaction. Because he wanted pretty badly to jump on the table and announce to the entire _world_  that Veronica still talked about him. Because that meant she still _thought_  about him.

“I didn’t _mean_ to name names,” Veronica protested. “And it was a sex-in-public discussion, _not_  a best-sex-of-your-life discussion, so you can stop smirking,” she told him, poking a fingernail into his chest just beneath his collarbone. “ _And_  I was very drunk when I told that story, so I don’t think I actually said it was Lo--” She stopped short, grabbed her wine glass, and took a long sip as Elisa and Gonzo laughed.

Logan leaned back in the booth and folded his hands behind his head, savoring the moment even as the pieces slid into place. “Rare book room,” he declared, letting himself remember how she’d dragged him there, knocking him into a bookshelf and nearly spilling books onto the floor before he’d turned and located the study desk. To this day, he had an entirely inappropriate response to the smell of dust and old paper.

Veronica’s head whipped around, and she fixed him with those keen blue eyes.

“I knew it!” Elisa squeaked.

“Ahh, the Hearst library,” Logan drawled. “I remember it fondly.”

Veronica glared at him, but he knew she wasn’t really mad. A little embarrassed, sure, but there was amusement in her voice. “Remember when I said we should go somewhere and catch up?” She tilted her head in challenge. “Did you _not_ want to do that, or are you going to shut up?”

“It seems to me,” Logan shot back, “that you already _told_  the story to Elisa.”

Elisa nodded. “Something about a door without a lock?”

“I hate you both,” Veronica decided, dropping her hand back to his thigh to squeeze a little harder than necessary.

Logan shrugged. “Elisa speaks the truth. _Someone_  couldn’t keep her hands off me-- Ouch, be nice, Veronica-- And we, uh, ended up having to take a _very_  badly timed time-out when some grad students wandered by.” He could still remember vividly -- trying like hell to get his breathing under control while holding still inside Veronica, who was perched on the edge of a study desk with her arms and legs wrapped around him, gasping into his chest. The hit of adrenaline at the possibility of being discovered made them both shake, his hands holding her flush against him as they struggled not to move or make a sound. “It was like accidental Tantric sex.” He didn’t add that their eventual orgasms had been _fucking fantastic_ , but he met Veronica’s heated gaze and knew she remembered it just as clearly as he did.

And he _knew_  it was the best she’d ever had, because it was the best he’d ever had.

She was still trying to glare up at him, but her lips were pressed together in a way that meant she was fighting a smile. “I don’t think they need details.”

“We do not!” Gonzo confirmed. “And this asshole doesn’t need any additional reasons to feel good about himself.”

“True,” Fred agreed, more emphatic about that than he’d been about anything so far.

But Reza was watching Logan closely, brow furrowed like he was trying to remember something. Logan started to panic a little, because he was positive he’d told some Veronica stories over the years, and his squadron mates weren’t the type to spare him embarrassment by _not_  telling Veronica about it.

“So, Elisa,” Logan asked quickly, “are you in law school, too?”

“Yes, Veronica--”

Reza snapped his fingers and then pointed at Veronica. “You’re the kickass ex-girlfriend.”

Logan groaned. Shit.

& & &

Veronica held very still, cocking her head to be sure she was hearing correctly. “I’m sorry -- the _kickass ex-girlfriend_?” She shouldn’t feel as surprised and as... _touched_  as she did. She’d always known the intimidating depths of Logan’s feelings for her, even when it scared her so much she refused to acknowledge it. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise her that the stories he’d told were apparently not about great sex so much as... just... _her._

She slid her hand a little further up his thigh, rubbing lightly against the denim as his muscles twitched a little beneath her touch. She wondered if he would understand that she mostly _couldn’t_  tell stories about him, that her broken heart and her unresolved regrets wouldn’t let her talk about him like he was just another thing in her past. Another anecdote. He was never that to her.

Logan’s arm dropped around her shoulder again, tugging her closer to him. “Really?” he asked Reza, sounding incredulous, and maybe a little bit worried. Which just piqued Veronica’s interest. “You remember that conversation? That was _four years ago_ ,” he protested, and Veronica recognized the note of tension in his voice. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but Reza spoke first.

“Was it her?” Reza tilted his wine glass towards Veronica.

“Wait,” Gonzo interrupted, narrowing his eyes at Veronica. “You’re Nancy Drew!” He raised his hands as if this were some major epiphany. “This is making so much more sense now.”

“This?” Reza asked.

“Well, the public groping, for one,” Gonzo answered with a smirk. “I’ve seen Logan hit on girls before--”

“Gonzo,” Logan sighed. “C’mon, man.”

“No, I just mean the zero-to-making-out-against-a-wall is a new one for you,” Gonzo answered.

“Not really,” Veronica muttered. Logan’s arm tightened on her shoulders for a second.

Gonzo waved away Logan’s protests and turned back to Veronica. “So, you’re Nancy Drew. I like your actual name a whole lot more. I assume you solve crimes?”

“Thanks.” Veronica fought the grin, but it was inevitable. “My dad was a private investigator,” she explained to Gonzo. “I used to help out on cases.”

“And solve them yourself,” Logan added, and dropped a kiss to her temple. If she wasn’t imagining it, he actually sounded proud of her.

She leaned up to kiss his cheek, but he turned into it at the last moment, kissing her for real, his arm tightening around her shoulders to haul her up against his chest.

“Okay, when we said you could make out in the restaurant, we were _kidding_ ,” Elisa protested. “Don’t be gross.”

Veronica broke away, staring up into Logan’s warm brown eyes for a long moment. Finally, she looked away, turning a curious stare Reza’s way. “Tell me _more_  about Logan’s thoughts on his kickass ex-girlfriend.” She knew Logan was trying to avoid _something_ , but this part was already on the table and he usually responded well to teasing. Hell, he usually _got off_  on snarking.

She turned her grin up at him and he rallied, smirking down at her. “As if you don’t already know it’s you.”

Veronica ran a finger along his jaw, then leaned up for a surprisingly chaste kiss. She didn’t want to overthink this strange, easy affection; she just wanted to enjoy his improbable presence.

“Wait,” Fred said, slouching a bit in the booth beside Elisa. He was watching them with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “When did Logan talk about his kickass ex-girlfriend? All I remember are stories about Hollywood nightclubs and--”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gonzo interrupted, to Veronica’s amusement, “are you trying to kill his night? I mean, he’s a spoiled jackass, but Veronica seems to like him well enough.” He turned his attention to Veronica, gave her an exaggeratedly puzzled look. “Is it possible you were dropped on your head as a small child?”

Veronica laughed despite herself. “He grows on you.”

“Like a fungus,” Gonzo agreed easily.

“I like your mates, Logan,” Veronica decided.

“Hang on,” Elisa said, and Veronica could _see_  the dime drop. She lifted a hand, trying to head off the inevitable, but Elisa ignored her, staring wide-eyed at Logan. “You’re Logan _Echolls_. Holy shit, Veronica, you never said your sex-god ex-boyfriend was _Logan Echolls_.”

A bunch of things happened at once, including Fred nearly falling out of the booth laughing, Logan smacking away Reza’s wholly inappropriate fist-bump, and Gonzo nearly choking to death on his wine. And Veronica slumped down in the booth and muttered, “Just fucking kill me.”

Logan leaned close, his nose nuzzling in just behind her ear. “Sex god, huh?”

“I _never_  said that,” Veronica answered vehemently.

“Minor deity?” he offered, before catching her earlobe in his teeth and giving it a gentle tug. She shuddered. His voice dropped lower, suffused with promise, and he suggested, “Worshipful acolyte would be more accurate.”

She was so wrapped up in the feel of his hand on the bare skin of her knee, sliding torturously slowly up her leg, that she lost the thread of the conversation going on around them. But then Logan’s hand stopped and his lips moved away from her jaw, and she belatedly noticed the tension in his arms.

Veronica looked up at Logan, but his focus was on Reza, suddenly. “Reza--”

“No,” Reza argued, waving off Logan’s interruption, “I’m just explaining the pinning ceremony to Elisa. Normally your dad or your wife comes up and pins the wings on you, but Logan--”

“ _Reza_.”

And then Veronica got it. She didn’t need the rest of the details, because she already knew the important part. Logan didn’t have any family. Logan wouldn’t have had anyone at the ceremony. And she couldn’t help but picture it -- Logan in his crisp uniform, standing at attention, having achieved this amazing thing, with _no one_  there to be proud of him.

God.

She slid an arm around his waist, pulling herself closer to him.

Reza gave Logan an annoyed look, then turned back to Elisa and continued, “So he didn’t have anyone at the ceremony, and when I asked why, he said he wouldn’t have wanted anyone there, except maybe his kickass ex-girlfriend.” Veronica’s eyes stung, and she took in an unsteady breath, but Reza didn’t seem to notice. “And of course we couldn’t let _that_ go by without followup, so we plied him with drinks until he told us a little bit about Nancy Drew, his kickass ex-girlfriend.”

Veronica stayed quiet, leaning against him in silent support. Because his friends clearly didn’t know the depths of Logan’s loneliness, or they would never have mentioned the ceremony. And if they didn’t know, that meant Logan didn’t want them to know. So she should probably pull her shit together and not cry all over him.

Logan squeezed her shoulder and mumbled against her ear, too low for the others to hear, “I was fine. It was just the after party. I was drunk. You know how I get maudlin.”

Veronica knew him, knew he’d been lonely and hurt then, and knew he could still feel the sting of it now. But he didn’t want to get into it, so she swallowed hard and patted his thigh until he met her gaze. “I’m proud of you, Logan.”

He leaned in and kissed her, and this time it wasn’t explosive passion or a precursor to sex. Veronica remembered this kiss, this slow, emotional kind of kiss. The kind of kiss that he used to greet her with when they were happy. The kind of kiss that she had missed every day for the last seven years.

“Oh, my God,” Veronica heard Elisa say, even as Elisa started pushing on Veronica’s arm. “Please go have sex and leave the rest of us to our tapas!”

Veronica broke the kiss and let Elisa’s insistent shoves push her further into Logan, then looked up at him expectantly. “Why aren’t you moving?”

& & &

The walk back to the Hotel de Espana took far longer than it should have, because Logan couldn’t keep his hands off of Veronica, and she refused let go of him. He was frustrated by her sundress, because there was no way to get his fingers on her skin without giving the denizens of Seville a little show.

And he would jealously keep Veronica all to himself for the next two days, _thankyouverymuch_.

Logan actually started to laugh when he looked up to find the Hotel de Espana directly across the street from them.

“What?” Veronica asked, her voice low and breathy, and just that was enough to make his eyes glaze a little bit.

“Hotel,” he answered, and tugged her towards the street.

“Careful!” she said, grabbing him and leaning back to force him to a stop so he didn’t step in front of a damn car in his blind eagerness.

“I gotta say, Veronica,” he grinned at her, “I feel pretty indestructible right now. Like the cars would just bounce right off of me.”

She gave him a smirk. “I _told_  you it wasn’t a best-sex-ever discussion, you egotistical jackass.” Carefully, she pulled him out into a break in traffic and they half-ran across the street.

“Sure,” Logan answered easily. “But I didn’t believe you.” He backed her up against a streetlight, pressed himself against her, and kissed her again. She arched up against him, and he let one hand wander south, leaning down a bit to reach the hem of her skirt. Lightly, he skimmed his fingertips along the outside of her thigh. He smiled against her lips, kissed her again, and then pulled back to waggle his eyebrows at her. “I have ways of making you confess.”

Her eyes were dark and amused when she whispered, “I can’t wait.”

Logan’s fingers clenched against her skin, and he stepped back. “Then let’s go.” He made himself step back, skimming his fingers along her hip and then grabbing her hand to tug her along.

Veronica slowed inside the lobby, and he looked over at her in confusion. She was still holding his hand, still following him toward the elevators, but she was distracted by the lavish surroundings -- the Moorish arches, the vibrant colored tiles, the large hanging chandeliers. Logan grinned and squeezed her hand. “Can we do the architecture tour tomorrow?”

Veronica jerked her attention back to him, flushing a little. She stepped into his personal space, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. “This is a beautiful hotel.”

“In an _hour_?” Logan pleaded, some of his desperation to touch her leaking into his voice.

A slow grin appeared on Veronica’s face, and she gave him an impish shrug. “I don’t know, Logan -- I’ve always had a thing for Spanish tile.”

He looped an arm around her waist and yanked her flush against him. “I will buy you a fucking Moorish tile _factory_  if you come upstairs with me right now.”

Her eyes widened in surprise momentarily, and then she laughed and kissed him, still standing ten yards from the elevators in the middle of the fucking lobby. They were so close to privacy that he let himself get a little lost in her, in his lust. His hands roamed down her back, over her ass, pressing the back of her thighs, urging her closer. Veronica’s fingers were digging hard against his shoulder blades, and she moaned into his mouth. “Your room,” she whispered against his lips. “Now.”

She pulled back, but he followed, leaning down to keep her from breaking the kiss for another long moment. Then she was backing toward the elevator, and he followed in her wake, barely seeing the other patrons in the lobby who were watching them with varying degrees of amusement.

Logan practically lunged past Veronica to hit the elevator call button, then clasped his hands at her lower back, leaning down to lick a slow line along her neck. She shivered in his arms, her fingers tucking into the top of his jeans.

When the elevator doors slid open, Veronica pulled him on, then let him select the floor. “Finally,” she murmured when he turned back to her, “we’re alone.”

In a second, Logan had her against the elevator wall, his mouth on hers, his hands under her thighs urging her to wrap her legs around him. She moaned and had her right leg hitched around his hip when someone stopped the elevator door from closing.

“Pardon,” a man apologized, and Logan didn’t have to turn around to hear the leering amusement in his tone.

Veronica edged back, both feet firmly back on the ground, and Logan dropped his forehead against the elevator wall beside her head, grumbling in her ear as he tried to keep himself under some semblance of control. Which was quite a struggle.

She turned her face so slightly into him, her smile pressed against his jawbone. “Patience,” she whispered.

He actually laughed at that, his hands firm on her waist. “It’s been seven fucking years, Veronica. How much patience can you expect me to have?”

& & &

Veronica was pretty proud of herself for keeping it together. Mostly. She made it down the corridor to his hotel room door on shaky legs, her hand gripping his tightly. But she kept her gaze averted, just to be sure she didn’t jump him there in the hallway.

And then he had the door open, and was ushering her inside with a hand dangerously low on her back.

Veronica turned to say something, but somehow Logan had her pressed up against the wall just inside the hotel suite door before she caught more than a glimpse of tasteful wallpaper and a mirrored side table. Not that she was complaining.

Because she’d been buzzing with lust for him for at least an hour, and this meant she could kiss him like a starving woman, all insistent lips and occasional teeth. He met her desperation with his own, and his fingers -- God, those fingers -- slid down her back, cupping her ass and tugging her up against his body. Their height difference was still enough to give her a crick in her neck, even with her chunky espadrilles.

Logan must have been thinking the same thing, because he picked her up and pinned her to the wall with his body, urging her legs around his waist. He’d been strong in college, but this was _effortless_. And it just made her more desperate for him. Veronica wriggled down a little, seeking pressure, and groaned into his mouth when their bodies aligned just right.

“Veronica,” he gasped, easing back, soft damp lips skimming across her jaw. He sucked on that spot just below her ear that he’d discovered years ago, and, God, how could he remember everything about how to touch her?

Her head thunked against the wall, but she barely felt it, focused on his hot breath on her skin, and his hard muscles beneath her hands. She urged him closer, loving the pressure of his body. He felt familiar, but changed -- like Logan, only... somehow _moreso_.

And then he eased back, letting her down carefully until her feet were solidly back on the floor. Veronica blinked up at the ceiling, and by the time she ducked her chin to find Logan, he’d dropped down to kneel before her. She took in a shuddery breath at the implication. Logan’s palms pressed against her knees, then dragged slowly -- so slowly -- up her thighs, pushing her sundress higher and higher.

“Logan,” she gasped, and he had the audacity to smirk up at her, even as his fingers tangled in her panties and dragged them down her legs. He pulled them off of her, then tugged her espadrilles off, and she lost a good three inches of height in the process. Which didn’t matter as much when he was on his knees before her.

She was panting even before he leaned closer. He gave her an eyebrow waggle that would’ve been goofy, if he hadn’t been immediately followed by Logan dipping beneath her sundress to press warm kisses to the inside of her thighs.

“Up,” he commanded, hot breath on her sensitive core, one hand urging her left leg up and over his shoulder. Veronica’s hands splayed flat against the wall, aiding her balance as she draped her leg over him, opening herself to his skillful mouth.

Even with his strong hands on her hips, even with the wall at her back, it was all Veronica could do to stay upright once Logan’s tongue found her clit. He worked her just like she remembered -- eagerly and skillfully, hot breath and warm lips and wet tongue, humming against her, bringing her higher and higher.

Veronica knew she was moaning his name but couldn’t make herself stop. She’d never been with anyone as single-mindedly devoted to her pleasure as Logan, and while she’d found that overwhelming as a teenager, God, did she appreciate it now. It helped that she was confident enough these days to give herself over to the pleasure, to ask for what she wanted -- more, and faster, and God, yes, _right there,_  and then she was coming, _hard_ , her body arched away from the wall, her shoulder blades and palms her only balance points. The strength of his grip on her waist was all that kept her from collapsing into a puddle in his lap.

Her pulse pounded loudly in her ears, happiness bubbled up in her chest, and she laughed when she opened her eyes to see a head-and-shoulders-shaped lump underneath her light blue sundress. Logan was still pressing soft kisses to her abdomen, her hip, easing her down. She reached out and smoothed her shaking hand to his head, scratching her skirt against his hair with her fingernails.

When he emerged from underneath her dress, he was sporting the smuggest of his smiles -- but Veronica could see both the happiness and the desperation lurking beneath.

“Mmm,” he said, licking his lips ostentatiously, “just as delicious as I remember.”

Veronica felt a renewed flare of desire just from that, but focused on grabbing his collar and tugging him upright. He came more than willingly, his lips finding hers. She traced her taste from his lips, reveling in the desperate clutch of his fingers in her dress. He yanked it upwards, bunching it up under her breasts, and she smiled against his mouth.

Pressing her palms to his chest, she pushed him back a bit. “Impatient,” she observed, even as she lifted her arms to let him tug her dress off. He complied immediately. And with gusto.

“Hell, yes, I am,” Logan answered with a grin, his appreciative gaze drifting down her body. “Still gorgeous as hell.”

Veronica reached back and unclasped her bra, tossing it in the general direction of her dress, and then leaned up into his kiss. He kissed her like she remembered, that addictive, combustible mix of passion and deep feelings. She couldn’t get enough of it, her arms wrapped tight around his back, her fingers digging into his back through the fabric of his shirt.

It was strangely erotic, pressing her naked skin against his fully clothed body.

But she still wanted skin on skin, so she started to pull his shirt from his pants. Logan released her for the three seconds it took him to shed his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. Her breath actually caught at the sight of him, at the crazy biceps, the sculpted chest, the washboard abs. Damn. He was magazine-worthy, but the combination of this ridiculous body and the reality of _her Logan_  was... She shifted, shaking her head a little in mute disbelief and appreciation as she looked up to meet his gaze.

He shrugged one shoulder, looked almost bashful as he said, “Fitness standards.”

Veronica ran one finger lightly down his sternum until his eyes drifted shut and he groaned, leaning into her touch. “U! S! A!” she chanted softly, and he groaned again, but this time he was laughing.

She smirked, letting him coax her farther into the suite, and she realized there was an entire sitting room area they had to walk through to reach the bedroom. Before she could feel self-conscious about leaving all of her clothes literally in the entryway, Logan swooped down to kiss her, wrapping those strong arms around her torso and lifting her just enough that her feet dangled above the floor.

Veronica kissed him back, her arms around his neck, her breast pressed flat against his _really_  hard chest. Until he put her down beside the mattress, and she reached for his belt buckle. And then stopped short, brow furrowed.

“What?” he asked, his palms sliding up her back, making her shiver a little.

“What the hell is that?” she demanded looping her index finger through his ridiculous belt and yanking on it. It was like no belt buckle she’d ever seen. There were a series of small leather loops instead of holes near one end of the belt, and at the other end, a sleek metal hook with a hinge at the apex. Plus what appeared to be a wholly unnecessary metal ring holding the hook closed.

She tilted her head and gave him an amused look. “Chastity belt?”

Logan snorted. “God, no.”

Veronica bit back about a thousand jokes about his endless string of lovers, because she wasn’t that insecure teenager anymore, that girl who knew enough to know she couldn’t measure up in experience. Which wasn’t at all what Logan had been looking for, but she’d been too immature -- and maybe too traumatized -- to understand that at the time.

None of which mattered in the moment, because they weren’t 19 and desperate. They were 26 and-- well, okay, desperate, but a healthy, _normal_ kind of desperate. Sexual desperation, not emotional desperation. Like, for instance, she was positively desperate to feel more of his hands on her skin. She was desperate to taste him, and to measure all the differences in his body with her fingers.

So she nodded sagely and said, “Just a stupidly complicated way to make sure you don’t have to get up to find a bottle opener when you’ve got a Street Fighter win streak going, then?”

He snorted, his hands splayed on her rib cage, his thumbs slipping just beneath her breasts so her breath hitched. “It’s a pelican hook, like we use on the ship-- You know what?” he decided, releasing her long enough to unhook the belt with those deft fingers. She watched impatiently as he slid it free of his pants. “Not important right now.” He smirked at her and tossed the belt aside. “In fact, I have _much_  more important things to concentrate on at the moment.”

“Oh, yeah?”

And then Logan’s mouth was on her breast, his tongue against her nipple, and she couldn’t remember what he was talking about when he pulled back just long enough to say, “Definitely.”

“Huh?” she managed, her unfocused gaze catching on the king-sized bed before her eyes slid closed. She tucked her fingers inside his jeans, beneath his boxer-briefs, and he groaned against her nipple when she touched his hard length.

He straightened, kissing her hungrily even as his hands grabbed her ass to haul her closer. “Please,” he muttered into her mouth, turning them and urging her backwards a few steps.

Veronica released him, stepped back, and bumped into the mattress, falling gracelessly down to sit. She reached for his jeans. “Logan,” she said, her voice breathless and shaky even to her own ears, “please, I want you inside me. Right now.”

He groaned, his hands landing on hers to help her divest him of his pants. “Motion carries,” he agreed.

Veronica snorted. “Lawyer jokes?”

“Seemed appropriate, counselor.” He smirked, shedding his jeans and boxer-briefs even as she scooted backwards on the bed, curling onto her side to watch him. Instead of climbing into bed with her, Logan stepped closer to the small roller bag on the suitcase stand against the wall. He still moved with that same effortless athleticism; he was _beautiful_. And goddamn _hot_ , even naked and grumbling as he rifled through his luggage.

“It wasn’t,” she assured him, “but I’ll allow it.” That was sort of a lawyer joke, but he didn’t acknowledge it, or probably even notice. “Plus, I’m not a lawyer _yet_.”

He paused to throw her a knowing look. “I have no doubt you’ll be a lawyer if that’s what you’ve set that determined mind of yours on.”

Veronica couldn’t seem to answer that, suddenly overwhelmed with this. Because it was _a lot_  -- being here with Logan after so many years shouldn’t feel so _familiar_ , but, God, it really did.

The mattress dipped and Veronica rolled a bit toward him, managing a soft smile.

Logan was grinning down at her, affection and lust and something she didn’t feel ready to identify clear in his eyes as he pushed her hip, urging her onto her back. She let him move her, hoping he could see all of what she was feeling, too. Logan moved closer, touching her only with one hand, smoothing his palm along her abdomen, against her hipbone, and then, finally, she gasped and stopped laughing when his long fingers slid between her thighs.

They both groaned when he slipped a finger inside. “Fuck,” he muttered, “you’re so wet.”

“Logan.” She turned her head, searching for the condom. Logan held it up and she grabbed it, ripping the foil packet open with shaking fingers even as her hips jumped and writhed beneath his teasing fingers. “God, please.”

He smirked at her, leaned over to tongue her nipple, and then accepted the condom and rolled it on. But he was entirely too in control, Veronica decided, so she moved, urging him down onto his back.

“Love it when you’re bossy,” he said, his voice tight and strained, even as he affected a casual pose -- folding his hands behind his neck to smirk up at her.

_Oh, no_ , Veronica thought, _we can’t have that_. She lifted up and straddled him, bracing herself with her hands on his fine, fine chest.  Suddenly, Logan wasn’t nearly so blase; instead he was gripping her hips hard enough to leave a mark, urging her closer.

Veronica reached for him, positioned him, then sank down onto him slowly. She bit her lip at the perfect, familiar sensation, her breath catching. She shifted, taking him all the way in, and then stopped. Her head tilted back as she let her body adjust, let herself remember the feel of him.

His fingers flexed on her skin, holding on for dear life. “V’ronica,” Logan muttered, his eyes half-closed, but still fixed on her face.

Then he shifted beneath her, just swiveled hips the slightest bit, and she groaned, feeling her arousal kick up another notch. He grinned up at her, but it wasn’t that cocky, _yeah, I’m gonna make you come_  smirk that he’d perfected at seventeen; this was full of affection and lust and maybe a little disbelief.

Leaning down, Veronica kissed his smile, then sat up, rolling her hips once, twice, before she really started to move. As desperate as she’d been to have him inside her, she wanted it to last now, so she set a leisurely pace, rocking against him and enjoying the hell out of the tension in his face. Because he’d already given her one hell of an orgasm -- taken the edge off. And she knew from the set of his mouth that he was struggling to keep himself under control.

She remembered vividly what Logan looked like when he was about to lose it, and she was pretty sure she remembered exactly how to push him over the edge. When he quirked an eyebrow at her and licked his fingers, she moaned, even before he slid his hand down to her clit.

He certainly remembered exactly how to snap her control.

Veronica lost her rhythm momentarily, then shifted, planting her hands on the mattress near his shoulders to change the angle. Logan braced his feet flat against the mattress, lifting his hips off the bed to slam into her each time she slid back down. His free hand was cupping her ass, trailing down her spine, squeezing her breasts -- he was more than thorough with his explorations, and she was becoming overwhelmed.

“Logan,” she managed, feeling her orgasm coming on. His hands gripped her ribcage, and she shifted, getting one hand on his bicep. And she _squeezed_ , her head falling back as she tipped over the edge, the pleasure hitting her in waves. She was laughing a little, her body moving mindlessly atop him, and then the world flipped.

Veronica opened her eyes to find Logan above her, eyes desperate, breath coming in pants as he thrust into her. “Please,” he said. “God, V’ronica.”

She shifted beneath him, bringing her legs up, taking him deeper, and Logan moaned, his eyes slipping shut. Her hands skimmed along the sweat-slick skin of his back, feeling the muscles tense and release beneath her palms. One hand slipped down farther, clenching his ass, urging him on; the other looped around his rib cage, tugging him down to her.

Logan came willingly, kissing her with messy, passionate abandon. A low whine started in his throat and she smiled against his lips, remembering the other times she’d heard that from him. And she remembered exactly how to bring him off.

Veronica bit his lower lip once, twice, then widened her hips just a little more. “Come for me,” she whispered.

And Logan broke, his hips pistoning into her, a low, unhinged moan coming from his as he stiffened beneath her hands, his spine arching into his orgasm. “V’rrrrr,” he managed, panting. “Veronica!”

His hips jerked against her once, twice more, and then he stilled, dropping his weight onto his elbows, and his head to her shoulders. She could feel his heavy, uneven breaths against her collarbone as he tried to recover.

Veronica pressed her palm against his lower back, urging him closer. “C’mere,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his rib cage as he lowered himself onto her.

“M’too heavy,” he protested, still unsteady, still panting.

She just grinned at the ceiling and held him tighter. “You’re just right.”

& & &

Logan pulled two water bottles from the suite’s mini-fridge and padded back toward the bedroom, hesitating at the sight of Veronica’s blue sundress lying in an abandoned heap near the door. After a moment’s indecision, he picked it up and draped it over the back of the couch, then headed back into the bedroom where the woman herself waited.

He faltered just inside the door when his gaze found her. Veronica was curled on her side, the crisp white sheet draped along her hip, her head propped in her hand as she smiled at him. And it wasn’t a smirk or a smug post-coital grin. It was one of those rare, heartfelt smiles he used to get from her every once in a while.

God, she was beautiful.

Veronica lifted her hand in his direction, waving him back to her, and Logan obeyed more than willingly. Eagerly. “Water?” he offered slipping into bed beside her, half-lying, half-sitting propped up by the pile of pillows against the headboard.

“Such a gentleman,” Veronica commented, accepting a bottle and following his lead, pushing herself a bit more upright. She was still decadently naked, her breasts in full view, despite the dim light in the bedroom. So gorgeous.

Just the sight of here, like this, with him -- it had his pulse kicking up and his breathing a little unsteady. _Despite_  the mind-blowing orgasm he’d just had. “What are you doing to me?” he murmured, not really meaning to voice the thought.

But Veronica just grinned and reached up, hooking her hand around his neck and tugging him down for a long, wet, dirty kiss. And -- he was hard again. Jesus.

She pulled back, but kept him close, her palm warm and firm against his shoulder. “I still can’t believe this is real,” she admitted.

Logan waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, it’s all real, baby.”

She actually snorted at that, then gave him a whack on the arm for good measure. “I can’t believe I even missed your terrible jokes.”

Logan froze, every cell of his body hyper-focused on what would happen next. Because Veronica, the Veronica he remembered with that old familiar ache, would realize she’d admitted to missing him, which implied _feelings_ , and then Logan would be left with a Veronica-shaped hole in the wall when she fled.

But this Veronica -- the older, wiser, and, _God,_  even sexier Veronica -- simply turned her head, ducking her chin, letting her hair swing forward to give her some cover. And then she said, “I missed you, Logan.”

And with that, whatever tiny bits of his heart he’d managed to hold back since their chance meeting earlier that day hurled themselves at her feet. His eyes actually stung a little from the intensity of his feelings for her, and he closed his eyes briefly, hoping like hell his voice would be steady and calm when he admitted, “I missed you, too, Veronica. Every day.”

Her head jerked up and their eyes met. Logan didn’t bother to hide anything -- not that ever really could with her. At worst, this was a brief reconnection with the woman he’d loved since he was seventeen, and he'd figure out a way to pull himself back together once she was gone. At best, maybe they’d actually found their way back to each other, and if that was even a possibility, he wouldn't let a silly thing like pride get in the way.

Veronica’s brow furrowed a bit as she studied him, her breath hitching once. “Logan...”

But he simply shrugged, unwilling to try to paper over his heart with lies. “You know how I feel about you, Veronica. That kind of thing -- it doesn’t just go away.”

She reached for him, tangling their hands together to rest against her sheet-covered thigh. “But it’s been years.”

His heart lurched painfully, because she sounded surprised, like that kind of thing wasn't possible. Like her feelings for him didn't make it past the city limits when she moved away.  Still, he made himself nod and hum something that was supposed to be agreement. Logan’s gaze drifted away from her face, focusing on her small, pale hand in his, her fingers gripping him tightly.

“I just--” Veronica stopped, took a breath, and tried again. “I don’t know how we could even...”

Logan frowned, glancing back up at her. The look on her face was wary, but not closed off. Not standoffish the way he half-expected. “Veronica?” he asked, telling himself not to hope.

“You’re-- You’re in the Navy. And on a ship.”

“Aircraft carrier,” he corrected automatically, then winced. “Sorry.”

The smile she gave him was a strange mix of affection and exasperation. “You’re _not in the U.S._  a lot, and I’m in New York,” she pointed out. “So I’m not sure what...” She seemed to run out of words.

But the ache in Logan’s chest was no longer anticipatory heartbreak, but something closer to a hopeful longing. “Veronica,” he said, his voice shaky, “Are you-- I mean, do you still...”

She lifted their joined hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Feelings,” she admitted shyly. “There are still some feelings.”

Logan was moving before he realized it, his hands circling her waist, tugging her close. Veronica came willingly, straddling his lap, her arms tossed loosely around his neck. He grinned up at her. “Feelings, huh?”

“Oh, _shut_  up,” she answered, with absolutely no heat behind her words. “You have feelings, too.”

“Absolutely true,” he agreed, letting his sudden giddiness bleed into his tone. “Look, it’s been a long -- _really great_  -- day, and this--” He squeezed her in his arms-- “was more than a little unexpected. How about we have a lot more sex--”

“Shocking suggestion,” Veronica murmured sarcastically.

“--and then get some sleep and let the _feelings-_ related stuff work itself out tomorrow, huh?” Because now that he knew there _were_  feelings, the impossibility, the logistical challenges, the geographical distance -- none of it dampened his enthusiasm for her, for _them._

She smirked at him, shifting suggestively in his lap. “Mmmm,” she hummed, “I could be convinced of this plan.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmured, leaning in to suck a mark into her neck.

“Logan!” she yelped. “Quit it.”

He smirked, unrepentant, and slid his hands around to her ass. “Make me.”

Her slow, suggestive smile was enough to make him groan. “I never could resist a challenge.”

Logan laughed and squeezed her ass with eager hands. “All right, then, Mars. Show me what ya got.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Yes, the Hotel de Espana is a nod to Sports Night and Dan Rydell's terrible memory and/or understanding of geography.
> 
> 2\. Logan is wearing that pelican hook belt that Jason Dohring wore in a photo shoot and I became, hmmm, moderately obsessed with. ;)


End file.
